Damn My Listening

Nothing like working double time. Here I am both satisfying my need for a “twelfth post” and complaining about my need for a twelfth post. I do listen, I did listen, but apparently I am too persuadable, for upon being argued by my colleague, I instantly switched dispositions to one that favored myself: that research one counts… whoops.

Aside from that I wouldn’t mind using this time to reflect how well this has gone. Frankly, I think it has gone pretty well, which is to say as well as it could have gone. A network of love and commenting is unachievable. For the most part we won’t read anything past our page. Why would we? That’s not part of the assignment. Still, I believe we have written more than we ever would in our journals. AND people (not to name names) like (actually I can’t name names…. But you know who) will be able to write legibly and therefore be read.

Still I look foreword to the future. We have 2/3 of a trimester left and I’m going to blog like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll be doing that tomorrow. Furthermore, the one to my right is completely Jewish. There is only garbage to my left.

weeeer gohna needa mahntaahhhgge!

There is probably nothing more hella bodacious crunk than a montage of me waking up every morning. For three reasons (smile, walk stage left).

Reason Number One (we start the bullshiting early when we promise three times the number of reasons that we have): Ahem. I love myself. I can’t think of anybody better in the world. He is as good at everything I want him to be good at, in all the right proportions. Who wouldn’t want a montage of me waking up every morning? Surely if you have heart problems, it may startle you enough to end your life… but then again, you will die peacefully knowing that you just experienced the happiest moment of your life. On I side note I love myself for that guarantee that he will never lie to you or exaggerate any story. (Smile walk to the far stage left as I begin my next paragraph)

Reason Number Two: Who doesn’t love a montage? Honest to God, I have never found myself fond of anyone who doesn’t love montages. If I don’t love you there’s no way you could love yourself, and if you don’t love yourself why is life worth living? So jump on the montage bandwagon. If your struggle to get on board is laborious enough and can be matched to kick ass music we will make a montage out of it. Ball is in your court. Urban Dictionary defines montage as “hella flippin crunk”, or at least it does now. It gets you fired up to do what you need to do, and it speeds up time for those of us that have to do training. Through the power of montages, Rocky Balboa was able to significantly better himself 5 times over the course of 5 movie. His combined workout? 14 pushups, 2 water buckets carried, 1 climb to an icy mountain (which took 10 seconds max), 7 pull ups, and exactly five bad ass montage music songs. You know what I’m talking about… heavy background music with a strong beat… yeah…

Reason Number Three: Who doesn’t like to wake up? To some degree, sure, we don’t want to wake up. But if you never wake up, people will never compile various footage from different angles, speeds, and locations of you rising and shining. And if it is never compiled, you better believe it will never be put to bad ass music.

So It Turns Out

that I completely suck at in class essays. Whoops. Amazing how many things in life we incorrectly favor ourselves in. We got essays back today and were asked to actually read them. First off, who reads? Secondly… oh Jesus this sucks.

Looking back on what I believed to be another work of art (that would be underscored because the teacher MUST hate me (how else could he deny me the amazing grade I deserve)) I began to see how completely terrible it was. If the words weren’t misspelled they didn’t fit together. Weak.

A twisted little philosophy, but wholesome truth. Everything we do is for the countless number ones out there. Things from cutting in cafeteria lines to subconsciously lying to ourselves about our ability to produce in class essays. Everything.

So how do we fix it? I am afraid I must answer my own question with a question. Why the hell not? I love myself, and stopping myself from bettering myself in my own mind is only going to take time and effort I could be using to love myself even more. So there I go kicking ass in my own little mind and I ride off into the sunset.

Yeah well...

There is something to be said for the systematic biasing of all things to favor one’s self. I do it, you, the imaginary reader, do it, and every one else does it. Don’t even try to deny it. No matter how subtle it is for a given instance we are guilty. Is it a serious wonder that no matter what hero I choose in “defense of the ancients” I can’t dominate as thoroughly as anyone else using them? How can I not kill with them like I saw this one guy do?
Well it is simple really. There are two possibilities: either they cheated or they were killing extremely nooby people. What’s that you say? There is a third option you say? Go to hell. I shall defend myself until the day I die whether I like it or not, and frankly so will you, the imaginary reader.

If we aren’t good at something it does not concern us. If we do so happen to be good at something there is nothing better in the world. We compromise and compensate. I’m not as good with the ladies as he is, but damned if I couldn’t whoop that chumps ass in ping pong. Frankly ping pong is the only thing that matters in this world anyway. No matter how much better someone is, we find a way to compensate. You walk into a room and meet a person just like you, except better in every way… what do you do? Prove him wrong. So he’s better at video games, picking up chicks, and chess… has better looks and is more athletic while being funnier in social situations while still being better than me in academics… … … … At least I didn’t get raped as a child to start a spiral into homosexuality that will eventually cause my premature death. Bastard.

Ironic? A touch. True? Completely. It doesn’t matter how desperate we have to get, we will protect our self esteem. I’m glad that jerk is gonna die early. I’ll take his spot… I’m better anyway… I can whistle the star spangled banner…

Shelling Out

Taking a step into the real world is always kind of depressing. As you age, you are inevitably told by your teacher, “You are X graders now, you should be able to Y, or Z with out me telling you” and they’re right. Unfortunately we don’t always want to hear this. A psychologist will tell you what kids my age never would. Give me respect but no responsibility. No such thing as the best of two worlds.

We have been given a direct challenge this year: to write a legitimately dominating research paper. The fact that it must be done professionally is the only fact we are given. We are open to all topics and we are given much guidance. Our time budget is broad and our class time is ample. All we have to do is take a step into the real world. It is surprisingly difficult. I love my shell, I’m used to it here, and I wouldn’t mind staying. Jerk.

But here I am, conducting research in a brave new world. Some day I’ll look back on it all in casual conversation with a colleague and say, “Most memorable thing I ever did in high school LA? Meth”

Of Splicing Creativity

I feel that to truly convey my view on a concept, safely and effectively, I must begin by defining it. Splicing: slicing (metaphorically or not) things into pieces and then reassembling them into a new whole. Who knew the letter ‘p’ can change the connotation of a word so much? Anyway, I’ve got to finish writing this before my mom makes super.

Here is my point. True creativity is obscenely rare. Almost everything that we may take note of as true creativity is really just a splice fest. The more creative something is, the more it probably has been spliced. The guy that invented Connect Four just added gravity to tic tac toe. The guy that invented the drill put a motor on a screwdriver. The guy that invented capture the flag just made tag with two teams.

So is it cynical? Probably, but we have to draw the line somewhere. The man that bent his scissors to cut squiggly lines with ease still got a patent. Is he really that creative? Is he worth recognition? Is anyone?

The wheel is worth points. The inclined plane deserves a pat on the back. The guy that invented the new and improved light rubber grip on my toothbrush better not get a damn plack.

Of Another Reason To Hate LA

So here I am awaiting the inevitable. Soon enough I will have to write a fully fledged research paper with citations and credentials and appeals to ethos all the while avoiding bad things like needlessly and probably incorrectly throwing words like “ethos” into a paragraph. That’s a lot of stress, but that isn’t the worst part.

The worst part is something that is mildly knocking at your brain until you finish all of the language studies you will in your life, something that goes against what most of your other scholarly teachers would say, and that is simply time frame.

A teacher of science or social studies would thoroughly encourage you to take your time with large assignments. Do it bit by bit, don’t overload yourself, take your time, be responsible in this aspect, and don’t do it last minute. And they’re right. That’s the kind of stuff that gets you ahead in life… it teaches you responsibility, and makes your life easier. Language Arts will never intentionally make your life easier.

If you write a paper you write a paper. You can’t say, “Well I suppose I’ll write the opening and the body and come back to the closing later” or write a paragraph a day. Books I can understand, but I am writing a research paper. If I have a good idea of how I want this paper to look, I can’t stand to do it brick by brick. Paragraphs would overlap and flow like crap. So I do it all at once.

This isn’t always so bad, but you have to remember: this is a big paper. Big papers sit on your shoulder and weigh down your spirit until you kill them. Such an undertaking requires special timing and therefore typically waits until a Sunday night, which also doesn’t help. You do the little stuff to build esteem, always putting off the big as long as you can. Unfortunately you can’t make this big project a bunch of little ones; you just have to stick it out. Maybe if I could I wouldn’t be writing this right now.

Meff

http://www.usdoj.gov/ndic/pubs11/18862/meth.htm

http://www.emcdda.europa.eu/?nnodeid=25480

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meth#_note-5

http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=WPT300230216207&site=ehost-live

http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=9YQ0494688158&site=ehost-live

http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=17781021&site=ehost-live

Of Cool Things

There are things in this world that are flippin sweet.

Phrases can be cool. Things like "oh that's harder than a priest at a playground" make my day. Phrases can be funny, or absurd or bad ass: all of which own noobs. We're talkin about gonorrhea sick 1337 pwnage of nubtards that could only be gank raped in gnarly crunk fashion. We're talking about wicked sick domination. Furthermore, mumbo dog face to the banana patch got me by for at least the first half of my life. But that's not all.

Physics can be cool. You drop a marble and watch it bounce off of 5 perfectly angled inclined planes. It flies between two more rings bounces off of the wall and sinks perfectly into a test tube where it rests. How is that cool? Well at first it isn't, but consider the following: you will never do that again in your life. The slightest spin on the marble, or the slightest change in altitude can ruin the entire setup. Wicked sick.

Martial Arts can be cool. Try and tell me that a man breaking a house in half by flexing thighs isn't cool. I know, I know, you can't. I understand. EBERYONE understands. How can you not have respect for a person who works so hard to train their body that no one has seen them for the last four years. Ask around about someone and you are bound to here a rumor that they have went to Colorado to train themselves in the mountains. How completely bad ass is that?

The Internet can be cool. Obviously. The possibilities are flipping ENDLESS. You can be shootin the shit with one of your homies (which can be cool) and then you're like, hey, I was youtubin and I saw this videoes where this guy used a power drill to give himself a bloody nose then went on his trampoline and did flips while blood shot out in a arc around him. Then you go on and show him, and it's linked to like 16 other video of blood fountain flipping and you are gone for the day. A brave new world.

This is only the beginning.

Things I find funnny:

THERE ARE THINGS in this mortal world that I find funny. BELIEVE IT. For as absurd as it is, it is only the TRUTH. I FIND THINGS FUNNY. Things like: irony, the 3 stooges, and crappy you tube videos (just to name a few). unfortunately no one understands how crucial the third item is. There is only one way to explain it... GO TO MY LINKS!

Getting a Head

Amazing what syntax does for us. The opposite of my current title would be Losing a Head, but should I take out a single worthless space my opposite becomes Getting Behind. True enough I only write right now to take advantage of some free time, but can't I make my drive efficient?

Syntax is while moderately cool as a word it is almost completely lame as a topic. Too bad, that's just who I am. I love the idea that everything I write can be mangled by the addition or subtration of a comma. There was a quote we were given in phychology class (we were asked to add punctuation): "He without her is nothing"

He showed us the two most common responses:
He, without she, is nothing
and
He. Without, she is nothing

That's not quite right, but it was the idea.

This issue brought me to a much higher level of caution when writing things. I won't lie to whoever reads this; I spam commas. I don't spam as much as I used to (which isn't really an accomplishment) but I still over use them.

Realizing then how hard it truly is to write with digression I have developed a respect for writers. I can't do it. In most of my work a comma goes anywhere I would naturally pause if I were reading it aloud. For example: This, I thought, to myself, was an interesting, yet, coinsidental issue. Exagguration? yes. Much Exagguration? Nah...

Long, Story short,:,,,, good, for you, authors, in gen,eral,

Search...

it isn't reSearch unless you have done it before, but to some degree it is compelling to re-. The only things that come to mind are violence in the media, sex in the media, and violence in video games (which I did last year as a research project). So do I extend this trend to sex in video games, take something cliché, or take something completely off the radar? Unfortunately the farther I go from the mainstream the harder my paper becomes to right and the fewer people care. The closer I am to the mainstream, the more help I have, but the more people have traveled before me. I want a decently genuinely unique topic... I want to talk about something like... (the who what when where why how of) meth labs (and the effect they have)?

Blacken White

There is something legitimately and profoundly indulging about simple black and white. I assume that a large percentage of people reading this would assume I would take the high road, and engage my self in a winding debate about race- were that the case, a large percentage of people don't know me (which is strikingly true when I think about it).

What I truely mean by my original satement is exactly what I say. Black and white is oddly appealing. Nothing in nature befenficial to our survival is black and white, and we have surely not been conditioned to like it, but the love is there. While black and white are elements of everything (the level of shading), their rare independance is treated with the awe it deserves. The endlessly depressingly vactant page that is my blog contains 6 links, 1 title, 2 posts, and 2 colors: somehow it still looks good to me.

And I am sure that this phenomenon applies not only to myself. Why is it that 99% of the text in the world is black or white (on white or black)? Like all politically correct decisions it is because it is the least offensive possibility, but at the same time were green and yellow a better combination plenty of others would type like that. It is only the politically correct thing to do BECUASE people accept it as an amazing combination.

Is it the only good combo? No. Was I just talking out of my ass? Only because i couldn't find the words to explain it in my mouth. Am I necessarily right? Not at all, all this is is a thought- and that's all you get. Run with it.

Audience of nOne

So here my blog stands, fresh and full of life... poorly established with few links and even fewer posts... but full of life. I can't help but say this is even more awkward than the previous exercises I have been asked to complete. Maybe I grew to like my writing notebook. Maybe I can't be pleased- but let's be honest (and insightful) no one really liked the notebook.

This IS the short term future. EVERYONE is doing it... or rather will be doing it by the time it becomes extinct. It is the bandwagon of the brave new world. Like people typing their literature in coffee shops on their laptops, a little company can do wonders for our performance. So we get online and have a little cyber-space to call our own, and, most of all, we feel like people care. This is wrong. No one, in fact (sorry), tends to give a shit about your blog. Why should they?

If someone is your friend they will talk to you in person. If someone is being forced to write them (strangely familiar) they don't look any further than their word count. If someone is doing research, how they hell do they justify information from a goddamn blog? It is after noting these points I would like to mention that should you receive comments on any of your blogs that are not from a teacher or yourself, there is a rape in your near future.

Come on, you know it's true...